


bush

by Bromothymol_Blue



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen, i had to do this for my english ii class, so i thought i might as well post it here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bromothymol_Blue/pseuds/Bromothymol_Blue
Summary: Sort of a prequel to the Hades and Persephone myth using Roman names. I had to write this for my online english ii class and thought I might as well post it here.





	bush

      On the day Proserpina, goddess of flowers, was born, flowers from azaleas to zinnias sprouted all over the world. They peeked out of the grass surrounding houses, in gardens, and one seed, a shiny black one, sprouted in a forest outside Ceres’ wheat fields. As the years passed, Proserpina grew, and so did the seedling. Its dark green, almost black leaves spread and eventually, the first scarlet petals appeared. The seedling turned into a bush, and it began to appear in Proserpina’s dreams. Proserpina wasn’t allowed beyond the fields surrounding Ceres’ cottage, for her safety, Ceres insisted.  
      “Please?” Proserpina would beg, to no avail.  
      Ceres would always deny her, saying “The monsters would kill you without a thought, and the other gods are hardly any better. Humans are dangerous as well. No, it’s better that you stay here and remain safe.”  
      So, Proserpina dreamed of the outside world. Sometimes she’d be on a beach by the sea, watching the waves hit the wet sand. Sometimes she’d be on a mountain, surrounded by snow. Her most frequent dream, however, was of the forest just outside her home. She would be walking through it, the shade from the trees unfamiliar but pleasant, and she would see the bush. In the morning, when she woke up, she never remembered.  
      By the time Proserpina was nineteen hundred, she had quite had it with her mother’s overprotectiveness. Whenever she wanted to do something fun or go someplace new or talk to someone she’d never met, Ceres would make a face and tell Proserpina that it wasn’t safe to. She’d listened to Ceres for a long time, but she was nearly two thousand years old! She wanted to see the world, or at least somewhere other than the small cottage she shared with her mother and the surrounding fields of grain. Proserpina thought that she could start by at least seeing the forest that had appeared to her so often.  
      It was easy, sneaking away from the air-headed nymphs who her mother had assigned to keep her from getting in trouble. They were too busy gossiping about which satyr seemed interested in Agneta or whatever new drama had occurred between Calanthe and her sister, Filomena, to notice Proserpina backing away. She gathered that Filomena had borrowed a chiton of Calanthe's and never returned it for the fourth time, but she couldn't be bothered to mediate. Instead, she glanced around and, seeing all eyes on Kalliope's dramatic retelling of what's happened to Echo just last week, slipped unseen into the tall wheat stalks that led to the forest.  
      She reached the entrance in a few minutes. It was cool there, the shade offering a measure of relief from the blazing sun. The trees were tall, majestic, and covered with moss. Small flowers grew in clusters around the roots and every so often, Proserpina would see a flower bush as she walked, marveling at the new setting.  
Soon, an eerily familiar bush caught her eye. Blood-red petals formed perfect blooms across the greenish-black leaves. She walked closer. After a few minutes of admiration, she decided that it would be absolutely wonderful near the poinsettias in Ceres’ garden.  
      Standing up, Proserpina hurried back through the woods with the intention of grabbing a trowel with which to dig and a wheelbarrow to carry the plant. As she reentered the wheat field, she figured it would be wise to check and see if the nymphs had noticed her absence. She headed towards the clearing where they wove their baskets, but stopped when she was just outside. Something seemed off. She checked the sky, shielding her eyes with her hand, but it was as blue and bright as always. Then it struck her. There was no noise. The nymphs were perpetually chatty and almost nothing could shut them up. Almost, she thought, cringing. She breathed in and out, steeling herself to enter. As she pushed through the stalks, she whipped up the beginnings of multiple excuses; I needed a walk-, I had to use the restroom-, I saw an interesting lizard- but they all evaporated the instant she stepped inside and met her mother’s glare.  
      Ceres was the older sister of Juno, Pluto, Neptune, and Jupiter, but you wouldn’t know she had such formidable relatives by looking at her. She was, in general, kind and calm, preferring to spend her time with her plants or her daughter than fight wars. She had long wheat-colored hair that was plaited and put into a bun, amber eyes, smile lines, and an overprotective streak a mile long. The only time she was scary was when it came to Proserpina’s safety.  
      “Proserpina.” Ceres said, her voice hard. “Where have you been?”  
      “I…” Proserpina said, her voice failing her. “Lizard?”  
      “Lizard. And how long does it take to chase a lizard?”  
      “Ah…”  
      “Surely not an hour and a half.” An hour and a half? Proserpina thought, surprised. She would have guessed that it had been twenty minutes, maximum.  
      “Well?” Proserpina couldn’t answer. She found it hard to lie to her mother. Getting no answer, Ceres frowned. “We’re going home, Proserpina.” Ceres said, brushing by her and onto the trail that headed towards home.  
      “But-” Proserpina started, beginning a complaint. Ceres turned around and glared at her. She swallowed the end of her sentence and hurried after her.  
      That night, Proserpina dreamed of the forest again. She saw the bush, still resplendent. A shaft of moonlight pierced the canopy of leaves above her and shone on it, but only the ground lit up. The plant itself stayed dark.


End file.
